Something Like Spring (23 page)

“Just go,” Jason whispered. “Please.”

Peter stopped smiling. He looked at Jason with something nearing pity, and for a moment, he even seemed to consider leaving. But then Caesar woke up, starting when he saw Peter and the knife. He was on his feet in seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing in here? What’s with the knife?”

Before Peter could respond, Caesar was on top of him, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to drop the blade before pinning his arm behind his back. Peter was crying out in pain and humiliation, Jason shouting at Caesar to leave him alone. He watched helplessly as Peter was shoved out the door. Caesar slammed it shut behind him, then turned to face the room.

“Fuck!” he growled. As Caesar’s brain kicked into gear, his anger turned to panic. “Fuck!” he repeated. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.” He locked eyes with Jason and shook his head. “How much did he see? Do you know?”

“Enough,” Jason said. “He used the knife to pick the lock. That’s all. He wasn’t trying to do anything.”

Caesar had his hands over his mouth and nose, his head shaking back and forth.

His expression of terror made Jason feel dread. “Do you think he’ll say anything?”

“It’s Peter!” Caesar said bitterly, moving his hands away. “Fuck! Listen, you’ve got to get in the shower. Don’t put any clothes on first. Just run. That way when my Dad comes in here, I can say—”

“Caesar?”

A fist pounded on the door before it started to open. In his panic, Caesar spun around and shoved it closed again, keeping his hands pressed against it and his arms straight. He must have realized how damning this was because he hung his head. Then he looked back at Jason with an expression of pure apology.

“Put your clothes on,” he said. “I have to let him in.”

“I’ll go out the window,” Jason whispered as Mr. Hubbard continued pounding on the door.

Caesar laughed hollowly and shook his head. “Won’t make a difference. They’ll believe Peter. After all, this has happened before.”

Jason pulled on his boxers. “We’ll both go. We’ll run away.”

Caesar turned and pressed his back against the door as it tried to open again. Then he just stared sorrowfully. Jason wanted to comfort him somehow, even to kiss him despite this being the absolute worst time for such a thing. Instead, he locked eyes with Caesar and saw the stillness of resignation. Caesar took two steps forward. Jason thought he was coming to embrace him, but then he stopped. And waited.

Behind him the door opened. Mr. Hubbard took in the scene, then grabbed Caesar by the arm and pulled him out of the room, slamming the door shut. Through the wooden wall, Jason listened to the one-sided shouting, pictured Caesar standing there naked and listless as his father berated him for something that couldn’t be changed.

Their voices moved away, so Jason got dressed and opened the door, glancing down the hallway. He could see Caesar on the couch, a blanket covering him, his head low as the lecture continued. Then Jason turned and found Peter standing with his back to the wall, a smug expression on his face. Like he had made two kills this trip.

* * * * *

Mrs. Hubbard stood before him, mascara running. Jason felt uncomfortable—had felt that way the entire day. The drive back had been five hours of awkward silence. Caesar was told to sit in the front passenger seat, Peter taking his place in the back, but even he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Why draw attention away from the transgression he and Caesar had committed? Mr. Hubbard had nothing to say either, scowling grimly at the road ahead.

Once home, they were each told to go to their rooms. Eventually, Mr. Hubbard had come for Jason. The house was eerily silent as they walked down the stairs. Mrs. Hubbard was crying when they entered the living room. She left a flustered mess, but whatever she did in the other room didn’t help, because she returned just as tearful as before.

“We need you to tell us the truth,” she said. “When Peter found you this morning…” She shook her head and fumbled with a tissue to blow her nose.

Mr. Hubbard cleared his throat. “We just need to know how all this got started.”

“Started?” Jason asked. He shook his head, feeling overwhelmed by the question. “The same way it does for anyone, I guess.”

Mr. Hubbard narrowed his eyes. “Meaning?”

“People…” Jason hesitated. “People just fall in love.”

Mrs. Hubbard looked at her husband, who nodded meaningfully. She cried some more, but Jason realized these were tears of relief. They were trying to figure out if Caesar had done this against Jason’s will, as if he had been molested or something. “I care about him!” Jason said in his defense. “It’s just like when a guy and girl fall in love. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“He’s your brother!” Mrs. Hubbard said.

“He’s not my brother!” Jason leapt to his feet. “And you aren’t my parents! What we did isn’t sick or unnatural. It wasn’t against my will or his! You can’t punish us for having feelings!”

“Sit down,” Mr. Hubbard said.

“No!”

“Sit down!”

Suddenly Mr. Hubbard looked a lot bigger than he usually did, his chest puffed up and huffing, so Jason did what he was told. Mr. Hubbard watched him to make sure he would stay put, then took his wife’s arm and guided her to the other side of the living room. After a hushed conversation, she nodded and left, but not before she shot Jason an accusatory glare. He wondered if Nathaniel had gotten the same treatment before he’d been sent on his way, if all the blame for Caesar’s unwanted behavior had been placed on his strong shoulders.

Mr. Hubbard returned to stand over him, arms crossed. What he had to say didn’t surprise Jason in the slightest.

“You’ve struggled to fit in with this family since day one. We like you, Jason. We really do. But considering everything that’s happened, I think we both know what would be best, don’t we?”

Jason shook his head. He wasn’t going to make this easy by being the one to say it.

“Very well. My wife and I think you’d be happier at another home. I’m going to call Michelle in the morning and have her come by so we can all talk. Okay?”

Jason refused to nod or agree to any of this. “Can I go back to my room now?”

“If you wish,” Mr. Hubbard said. “We’d like you to stay there until dinner. There are other conversations that need to take place.”

Jason stood and went upstairs. Then he pressed his ear to the door, wondering if they would drag Caesar out of his room. Jason couldn’t hear anything. Chances were they had questioned him already. When dinnertime came, Jason forced himself to go downstairs, if only to see if Caesar was doing all right. He wasn’t at the table. Not wanting to be around the family, Jason asked if he could eat in his room. Mrs. Hubbard seemed relieved to see him go.

Jason spent the rest of the evening packing his things. He left the suit, the squeaky shoes, and the other clothes the Hubbards had bought him behind. That just left his old clothes, his guitar, and a pair of lime green Converse. Jason was sitting on the edge of the bed, considering these few possessions, when he remembered the bandana hidden between the mattress and box spring. He dug it out and tied it around the neck of his guitar. When the house grew silent, he quietly opened his door and walked down the hallway to Caesar’s room.

He didn’t try to knock. Just as he always did, Jason placed his hand on the knob, felt a familiar stirring in his chest, and turned it. Or tried to. The knob didn’t budge. He tried again with more force, stepping back when this didn’t work to consider the door. Locked. From the inside. Caesar didn’t want to see him.

Taking a deep breath, Jason turned and walked back to his room.

* * * * *

“I’m sorry.”

These were the first words Michelle said when he opened his bedroom door. He gestured for her to enter. Instead she stepped forward and hugged him.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

“It’s fine,” Jason said, lump in his throat. “I’m an old pro at this.”

“I don’t mean the foster placement,” Michelle said. She stepped back and double-checked the hallway. Then she shut the bedroom door and sat on the edge of his mattress. “I mean I’m sorry for what you’re going through. The heartbreak you mentioned last time, you were talking about Caesar, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, maybe a little defensively because she hurried to explain.

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay or having feelings for him. You know that, right?”

“You’re cool with it?”

“I mentioned that you remind me of my brother. He’s gay too, and yes, I’m cool with it. But when I said last time that everyone goes through heartbreak, I didn’t mean like this.” Michelle considered him and sighed. “What a nightmare.”

“It’s fine,” he lied.

“On the other hand,” Michelle said, trying to appear optimistic, “I get to see a lot more of you again. That’s a silver lining, right?”

He smiled for her sake, knowing she meant well. “Is there going to be some horrible meeting downstairs, or can we just go?”

“I’ve already talked to the Hubbards,” Michelle said. “We can go. Looks like you’re all packed up?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyone you want to say goodbye to first?”

Jason looked to make sure she was serious. “I’m not sure if he’s in his room or not… Can you guard the hallway?”

“Officially? No.” Michelle stood up and went to the door. “I can, however, go over some final details with the Hubbards downstairs. Five minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jason was out the door first. Like last night, he didn’t bother to knock. This time the doorknob turned beneath his hand. He was worried this meant Caesar wasn’t there, but Jason found him sitting on the carpet, back against the bed.

“They told me you were leaving,” he mumbled.

Jason eyed him a minute before shutting the door. “Maybe it’s for the best. We’ll let things die down a little. Then you could sneak out and pick me up. Not every night, but—”

Caesar raised his head. “I’m going to Yale.”

“I know,” Jason said, “but not for a few months.”

“So we just screw around until then?”

Jason hesitated, surprised by the chill in his voice. “I’ll get my driver’s license. Now that I’m sixteen I can sign up for a work program through the group home. I’ll save money, and maybe we can meet halfway. I’d have to get a car, but hell, I’ll take a bus until then! Or maybe—”

“Nathaniel got accepted,” Caesar said. “To Yale. Getting transferred there is even harder than being accepted as a freshman. He’s been working his ass off all year to achieve that. Even before he got back in touch with me.”

“So?” Jason wanted to say this defiantly, but the word came out sounding desperate. “So that’s it?”

Caesar’s tone was pleading. “I’ve been in love with him since I was fifteen! And I’ve been waiting, all this time, to be with him.” He scowled down at the carpet again. “So yes. This is it.”

Jason stood there, lip trembling as he tried to find the right words, anything at all, that would earn him a second chance. When he couldn’t find them, when even his heart couldn’t offer him hope, his shoulders relaxed. “Goodbye, Caesar.”

After a moment of stillness, Caesar looked up one last time, jaw clenching, but only to hold back tears. “Goodbye, Jason Grant.”

All that was left, was to turn and walk away. Jason found this easier to do than he might have expected, since staying longer would hurt too much. On the way down the hall, he heard Carrie’s music, heard the clicking of a mouse in Peter’s room, but he refused to look inside the cracked doors. He wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard had told them all to stay in their rooms to keep them safe, just in case Jason had a tantrum. Or maybe to shield them from his perversions. Only one door opened as he was passing by.

Amy looked up at him accusingly. He understood, remembering the feeling of abandonment that had once haunted him. Then she thrust something at him—a little bundled-up napkin. He took it, her door slamming shut a second later. Opening the napkin, he discovered a handful of tiny muffins made from a light-bulb-powered oven. Smiling, he opened her door a crack and said, “I love you too, Amy!”

Closing the door again, he popped a muffin in his mouth and went to his former room. Slinging his pack over one shoulder and his guitar over the other, Jason strolled down the stairs, out the front door, and into a hot summer day.

Home again.

The phrase kept popping into Jason’s head all week. At the moment, it made him laugh, since he was sitting in the dining area of the common room. So basically, a couple of tables he needed to wipe down and a few dishes he needed to bring back to the kitchen made him feel like he was home. Not exactly the castle most people dreamed of, but he felt a strange sort of contentment from being in the group home again.

“There you are!” Michelle marched in carrying a manila folder. Caseworkers were
always
carrying manila folders around. This made him laugh too. Michelle smiled in response. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, even if it is at my expense.”

“Sorry,” Jason said.

“Is it my hair?”

“No, I’m just in a goofy mood. Wanna sit down? Shoot the shit?”

Michelle remained standing. “Actually, I wanted to bring you the forms you requested.”

Jason sat upright. “For the work release program?”

“Yes.” Michelle moved the folder away when he reached for it. “I know sixteen seems old to you, but you don’t have to give up on finding a family. A good foster parent will be there in an emergency, even when you’re on your own as an adult. Two more years is a very long time. Enough to make strangers feel like a family.”

“Two years
is
a long time,” Jason said. “And I don’t want to waste it bouncing back and forth between homes. I want to start building my own life.”

“Okay.” Michelle placed the folder on the table in front of him, but kept her hand on top of it.

He glanced up at her, saw that she was biting her lip, and shook his head ruefully. “Now what?”

“Remember that brother of mine I mentioned?”

“The gay one?”

Michelle nodded. “Yeah. He’s been through some hard times too, and I thought it might help if you had someone to talk to who understands what it’s like—”